who wants to walk when they know how to fly?
by imagined-experiences
Summary: Oliver Wood's career is stopped by a bludger. Written for the revisiting challenge on HPFC. Rated T for addiction.
1. Chapter 1

I wrote this fic for Schermionie's 'the revisiting challenge'. I tried to mix my 'old' writing style with my 'last'. I don't know if I had managed it, but I really enjoyed writing it, though it was difficult at first.

Thanks xakemii for beta-reading it! The title is inspired by a quote from Shakira's song Gypsy.

Now enjoy and review :)

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"The quaffle passes from hand to hand. Wright for Puddlemere, who's sending it to - Oh! It's intercepted by Chudley's Bonnie. Now Bonnie to Smith. Smith now directing the quaffle towards Puddlemere goals and... Wood! Be careful! Oliver! Bludger! ... Broke... blood... hospital... quick..." Those were the last words Oliver Wood heard at the Puddlemere versus Chudley Cannon's match. They were drowned out by the bludger that had hit him. The bludger that had scarred his spinal colon.

Since that fateful day, he was elongated in a bed at St. Mungos, almost unable to move.

"Have you had your pills today, Oliver?" asked a kind voice.

"Yes, Nurse Rose."

He wanted to be rude to her, but he couldn't bring himself to spit at the poor girl. Nurse Rose was his only authorized visitor since the accident. The media had learnt of the accident quickly; immediately swarming the hospital in hopes of catching even a glimpse of the fallen quidditch player. The hospital did what they could; changing floors, and then placing a sturdy 'No Visitors' plaque on the door. Not even his closest friends were allowed to see him. He was too weak, the hospital claimed. Nurse Rose was a middle-aged woman, and kind to all. Karma kicked in for her, and the favour was always returned. She was even nice to the likes of Oliver, who's only wish was to yell his frustration to the world, to claim the injustice of his bloody life.

He had lost everything. Walking, doing the smallest every day life things were painful for him. Most importantly, the ability to play quidditch had been stolen from him. He would never again feel the sense of freedom he felt when he was up in the air. The wind would never mess his hair up again. His nose would never be red from early morning practices again. He would never play with his team again. He would never win again. He would never compete again. He had lost everything. Even if the doctors had hope, it didn't matter, because Oliver didn't.

"Don't worry, Mister Wood, you'll be walking fine by the end of the month."

Sure, he would able to walk, to take care of himself alone, but quidditch, he would still miss.

Visitors were allowed by the end of the week.

Katie, Angelina, George, and some others passed, said hello and walked away. He was not the Oliver they all knew, he had changed. But they couldn't expect less. Alicia even cried when she saw him. She was the only one who dared crying in front of him; Katie hid herself in the bathroom of the hospital's room. Ginny and Hermione excused themselves and went in the corridor. Everyone was trying to cheer him up.

"How are you?" asked Angelina.

"Angie? He's as white as Malfoy, how do you think he feels?" George replied.

"I tried to be polite, it's what you do when you visit someone in the hospital," she answered her husband.

Oliver smiled at them. At least George was realist.

"It's okay guys. The doctors already told me I'll never play quidditch again and I've been warned that I look awful. No need to be nice with me."

"Like doctors could stop ___you _playing quidditch. Don't worry Oliver, we will play a game when you'll be released from this hell."

Oliver smiled at George enthusiasm, pretending he believed him. Pretending he was fine.

He felt pathetic, saying to everyone, he was okay when he was obviously not.

But no one saw it. His fake smile covered his pain, and no one asked for more. Not even Miss Rose.

"I saw you had visits yesterday. You have to feel better by now!" exclaimed Miss Rose.

"Yes," he lied. He was tired, but managed to force the word out. Those white lies were hard for him.

After two months, he was released. The recovery went slowly, but he was able to walk and to take care of himself. A nurse still came to his home, though.

He missed the hospital. His house felt empty, he rarely had visitors there. His anger had space to develop in this big villa paid by his quidditch's days.

Quidditch had been his first love, his freedom, his livelihood. But now, it was only a dream he would never reach. Who would possibly walk when they had experienced flying? He was bound to the land while he only wanted to be in the air.

The sickness, the frustration he felt made him thrown the glass of water he was holding toward the wall. He served his self a glass of firewhiskey. For now, firewhiskey would be his new water. He was drinking his third glass when the nurse arrived.

"Hello, Mister Wood." She was polite, but not kind like Miss Rose was. "You can't drink with the medicines you're taking. The effects would be disastrous."

"More disastrous than they already are? Well, I'm curious," he said and drank it in one gulp.

"Stop it, or I'll not give you your potions and the pain will be awful."

"Make me." He drank another glass.

"I'll report your compartment to St Mungos, Sir."

The nurse left shaking her head, not giving him his potion. He didn't care, yet. He regretted it during the night, when the pain awoke him. But in the morning, he forgot about it again, and continued his stupid drinking game.

Another nurse came that day. She didn't convince him to stop drinking and she left without giving him the potion. It didn't help him, really.

He noticed that if he drank the right amount of alcohol he would not need the pain potion. Though, it was a shame for the special tonic potion which was supposed to make him recover his muscles faster.

The first week, a nurse came every day and left each time with the two potions in hands. After that, they sent him his friends and colleagues, he refused the entrance to everyone. They only offered him pity, and he didn't need that.

He needed quidditch, and no one could ever understand it. Their words were empty: "___You have to be grateful you're alive and able to walk", "Stop ruining your life like this! Please do it for us." _He didn't understand what life he was ruining, he had no more existence. He was only alive. And he was not enough for him.

After that, they sent a healer. He did not open the door to her, but she stayed there anyway. From nine in the morning to four in the afternoon. The first day, she introduced herself.

"I'm Cho Chang, healer at St Mungos. I'm here to help you."

"I don't want help," he said. As he ignored her, she observed him.

He watched photographs of his quidditch's day, read his own interviews on magazines. And he drank. He drank a lot.

-

The second day, she tried to talk with him.

"Aren't you in pain without the potions?"

He didn't answer.

"The special tonic could help you recover your muscles."

"Why bother?" he answered.

All her efforts to have a conversation were unsuccessful. She stayed outside.

.

On the third day, she changed her tactic. She talked about Hogwarts.

"I remember you from Hogwarts, you know. I was two years below you."

"I remember. You were Diggory's girlfriend."

She made a face.

"You were Gryffindor's keeper."

He made a face.

They didn't talk for the rest of the day. She observed him again, he had changed his clothes, but he did not shave. He still spent his day doing nothing except watching sports and drinking.

-

The fourth day came, and this time she carried a book instead of the potions. He noticed and opened the window near the door so it'd be easier for them to talk.

"You didn't bother with the potions today?"

"You're still drinking at nine in the morning and you refuse to let me in, so why bother?"

"You're right."

.

The next day, she brought a book again. They didn't talk. His state was still the same. But the window remained open all the time.

.

The sixth day was a little more lucky. She brought a broomstick's book.

"You know I can't play quidditch anymore and still, you brought that book," he said, angrily. Like all the times someone mentioned the sport in front of him.

"Well, the world doesn't revolve around you. I like quidditch too, and since I'm not able to do my job, I need to keep myself entertained."

"You played for Ravenclaw! I remember now," he exclaimed. She noticed his tone was not angry toward quidditch this time.

"Indeed."

After a moment of silence, she added :

"Have you heard about the new broomstick that goes under sea?"

A question related to broomsticks, but not to quidditch directly.

"Yeah, it's for people who don't know how to play quidditch," he snarled. "It's only for short promenades, right?"

"Yes, and you know, you can actually ride that type of broomstick."

"I'm not interested. They have no speed, can't go higher than thirty feet."

"Flying is always flying."

"I'm not interested."

.

The next day it was the seventh time Cho came there.

"Why keep you coming?" he asked.

"It's my job."

"It's not necessary, I'm very good with my firewhiskey, I do not need those potions."

"That's what you think. These potions could help you better than firewhiskey."

"No."

"Yes, and I'm sure I could help you stop. I noticed you're in a better shape, and you shaved today."

"True, but it's only because the beard was bothering me."

"That's a lie. Admit it, the pain is going away -that's natural after this amount of time, and you don't feel angry like you were when you were just release from the hospital. It was just a phase. You're feeling better."

He didn't say anything. It was true, the pain slowly went away and her company and the time helped a little. He was beginning to accept that he was existing even without quidditch.

"And I'm sure you enjoy my company," she smiled at him.

-

After that first week she still stayed outside, but they discussed more. And about more subjects, though Oliver's main was complaining he would never be able to play quidditch again. He still drank a lot and he still was bitter toward the fact he couldn't play the sport anymore, but Cho seemed to be able to alleviate his discomfort. And she noticed he shaved and changed his clothes every day now.

After a second week, she started bringing back the potions.

"Again," he noticed.

"Yes, I'm sure you'll want them. At least the special tonic. But you know you have to stop drinking for that."

"I don't want to."

Rain began to fall.

"Please, let me enter."

"No way, you'll force me to drink the potions."

"It's raining if you haven't noticed, and if I have the right to ___force_ you, I'd have used a spell or a trick earlier. Don't you think?"

"You're still not coming in."

"So, I leave."

And she left, it was not even ten in the morning.

He missed her that day. He hoped she would not give up, like the others. He was not lonely like he had first thought when he was released from the hospital. She had been here, and he only noticed that now he was actually alone. It was good not having to pretend he was fine when he wasn't.

Fortunately, she came back the next day.

"Why do you come back?" he asked.

"It's my job."

"Don't lie, like you said, you can't force me. And I guess it's not ___that_ important if I don't take my potions. Why do you keep coming?"

"The truth? I like your company. Even if you're not talking that much, I like it. And I dislike to lose."

"We have one thing in common."

"What, you like your company too?" she joked.

"Not anymore, but the point is I hate losing too." She noticed the 'not anymore', but kept it for later. She needed his trust first.

"I only say dislike."

"But you meant hate. If it was dislike, you would have gave it up after the first week."

"True. Can I come in?" she tried.

"No."

Well, it was not for this time.

"Okay, I'll stay outside then."

"You're not leaving?" he asked, hopefully.

"Is it raining?"

There was a pause.

"Have you finished the broomstick's book you read the other day?" he casually demanded.

"No, but I can lend it to you when I'm done if you want..."

"Thanks."

"But you'll have to do me a favour."

"Why do you want so much to come in?"

"No, I abandoned that idea. I just want you to stop drinking and start living."

"Why?"

"Because we can only talk from nine to eleven, then you're too drunk and I stay here, bored."

"I mean why are you helping me? Don't tell me it's your job."

"Because I want you to like ___your_ company again. Like when I knew you in Hogwarts. We might not have the same circles of friends, but you impressed the small fourteen years old I was when you win the cup. You were happy at that time. We were all happy at that time," she was murmuring in the end.

"Let's not talk about sensitives subjects, okay?" He saw the pain in her eyes at the mention of those war days, it was the same he saw in the mirror every morning. He was in pain because of a stupid sport, when people still were damaged by the remembrance of a war. He was acting foolish. The war only gave them bad memories, quidditch gave him good ones too.

"How is it outside, in the wizard word? I hadn't had news for three weeks now."

"I have the prophet here if you want."

"I meant for quidditch, which team is on the lead?"

"I thought you wanted to avoid sensitives subjects?"

"Sensitive like the war. I guess I was being a little immature, I can't avoid quidditch for the rest of my life because it reminds me painful memories. Some are worse."

She smiled at him, he was beginning to understand.

"The Cannons won a match last week."

"No way!"

Oliver was enthusiast again. The talked the entire morning, the ate lunch together. Though, they were separated by the open window. He did not drink that day, and a four o'clock when she had to leave to go to her job at St Mungos, she gave him two potions. One special tonic and one to help him stop alcohol. He accepted both. Weaning alcohol from his system would only take three days, but then the hardest part would be not drinking again. He knew her company would help. He accepted the challenge. And he was going to win, because Oliver Wood never lost.

-

The second day of his 'cure' passed just like the first, they talked, Cho being outside. She demanded him to enter so she could take off all the firewhiskey bottles, but the house elf took care of it already.

He told her that he was not a true alcoholic, that it was more a game and an entertainment for him anyway. But he still begged for the helping potion.

.

The third day passed in a blur for them, it was a Sunday and Cho did not have to go to work after. She stayed until six and the night was falling. He opened the door to her.

"Come in. Please."

She looked at him, then at the door. She entered the house without a word.

"It was cold outside, wasn't it?" he stated.

"Yes."

"I'm used to that cold, the nightfall was my favourite time to ride," he said while she looked over the place. There was a rack of brooms on the oposite wall. She couldn't see it from her window, so she went closer to examine it.

"That's a vintage broom! My grandma told me about it. It was impossible to maneuver. 'Wild Wind'. I always wanted to try one."

"It's awful to control. You need a great precision; a seeker's precision," he added.

She raised an eyebrow, did he just proposed to her to try it?

"Can I...?"

"Of course," he smiled and gave her the old broomstick.

They went outside, and she tried it. It was amazing. She managed it almost well. She saw his face on the light of the moon. He was smiling, but his eyes were nostalgics, sad. She landed next to him.

"How was it?" he asked.

"Amazing. Do you want to try it?"

"Your joke is not funny."

"I'm not joking. Your muscles and spinal colon don't allow you to ride a broom on your own and for a long period; you have not the strength and you can't lead it. But if I'm with you, it'll be okay. Just five minutes."

He mounted behind her, and she lifted them in the sky.

The sensation was incredible, how he had missed that. He enjoyed the freedom, shouting, the arms in the airs. Then he held her and whispered a 'thank you' in her ear.

He was existing again.


	2. Chapter 2

The five minutes passed in a blur. The time to land came to soon and Cho could see the pain in Oliver's eyes. Physical pain, of course, but also an interior pain. One which couldn't be released with potions.

Cho knew that even if he had won his battle, even if he could walk and be perfectly himself: everything had a cost. Oliver had lost a part of himself the day he had been hit by that Bludger.

"Thanks," he said again.

They sat on the floor, looking at the vast space in front of them. Oliver owned a mini-quidditch field with goals to practice. But it was in poor condition.

"What happened to the field?" Cho asked.

"Nothing special, a simple spell work and some anger," he said casually. "I'm not going to need it anymore anyway."

She continued to stare at the field."You know, you're going to need help now. You need a following after your injury and your drinking problem," she started. "And I can help you, not as a healer: as a friend."

"Thanks, you already did so much," he said truthfully grabbing her hand. "And don't dare say it's your job."

"I did my job," she insisted.

"And now what are you doing then? Your job is done, you don't have to come back tomorrow..." he said, their fingers still interlaced.

"I don't have to come back tomorrow. It's true. But you know I don't like half victories and this one will be complete only tomorrow morning..."

He smiled at her. And they stayed in the grass until the sunrise and the beginning of a new life. Cho understood very well what had been going through Oliver's mind, he lost a part of his life. He needed to replace that missing part with something else. Maybe someone, who knew?

But for now, the time was at celebration. A quiet celebration of a new life, without tears of joy and cheers. Just two interlaced hands and two people looking at the sunrise: the promise that a new era was dawning.

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A/N:This ending is a response to the prompt of the day challenge on Hogwarts online. The prompts was victory, the additional ones were: beginning, cost, celebration, sunrise and tears.

It's unbeta-read, please forgive any possible mistake.

Please leave your thoughts in a review.


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